To Wield Fate Itself
by jake.spann.9
Summary: This is my novel story about General Zelgius and his rise to power in events preceding the plot of Fire emblem path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn
1. Chapter 1:

To Wield Fate Itself: Zelgius

Chapter 1: The Branded Bastard

"You miserable, ignorant, useless child!" The words fell on broken ears. Ears that for years endured the vile utterances lashed upon his person by those amongst his own household. The people who were supposed to be his network of support and comfort, frequently reminded and persisted in affirming that he, this young man was unworthy of even the scraps of their table, the bones of their plates, and the smell of their waste. "Turd!" This was his name, not that it was his given name, a name placed upon a baby's person as a sweaty worn out mother holds her love in her arms and places in one word love. Rather, this was the curse hurled at him most frequently. When it was time for supper, it was hollered, when the adults wanted someone to beat, it was yelled. Never has this title, this name for the young man ever been softly spoken, with any semblance of love and care. Never has he experienced love.

You may wonder how such a fate may befall one so young, why a family would treat someone supposedly of their kin with complete disregard. Would a mother actually hate the fruit of her loins? Would a father look upon a son in disgust? While wicked people exist and neglectful abusive parents are a reality, the people who feigned guardianship for the boy were not his parents. Truly, he was unsure who they really were in relation to him, at times he even pondered the predicament, especially when other children seemed to have parents who actually enjoyed their existence, who toiled to give them joy, while all he got was laborious work and whippings. Other children received hugs he received foot stomps from an angry drunk man. Originally, he only knew the two heads of his household as Dominus and Domina, while this was a title reserved for a slave to address their masters. However, the boy lacked such knowledge. Others in his household referred to them by this name and he never thought anything of it. He once got up the courage to ask who they were in relation to him, the answer given him was three broken ribs and weak without rations. He never asked again, though the question always loomed large in his heart. Did he have parents? Were Dominus and Domina his parents? If they were, then why didn't they love him as other parents cherished their children? Though he refused to give voice to these thoughts, they rarely escaped his mind.

His world was the confines of the home he served. A smaller house of light nobility in the kingdom of Daein, one of the main sovereign kingdoms on the continent of Tellius, a peninsula on which people believed that all life on earth dwelled. Countless expeditions elsewhere to find life ended in complete failure and death. Dominus was a minor lord serving the king of Daein as steward of Terin, a small trading center in part of the kingdom. Despite the influence of Dominus, the boy never had left even the grounds of the home.

The world beyond the door of the house seemed a distance realm of infinite possibility and question for the young man. This was all he had his thoughts, with nothing else for comfort and affection in his world of torment, his one place of solace was the realm of wonder locked inside his head. This was where he desired to be instead of cleaning, tending the animals, or being beaten as a training tool by Dominus' children. This was the worst part of his existence, the training exercises. These were punishments for him alone to endure. With the other pains of serving Dominus the other slaves endured the hardships just as he did, yet with the training exercises, he alone felt the sting. Dominus had two children younger than the boy, but their appearance looked much more mature and older. War was a constant part of Tellius as brigand gangs, and rival nations incited conflict with little respite in between. Dominus, was a rather rotund man and lacked any skill in fighting or magic, yet felt it his duty as a father to teach his boys the "art" of fighting. His lessons were silly and lacked true form, yet the blows hurt nonetheless. Dominus forced the boy to stand still in the center of the common room of the house while the boys came at him and hit him repeatedly with blunt wooden practice swords. When the boy was finally unable to stand Dominus brought over two other slaves to hold him up so that the practice could continue. These happened often and today was one of those days. The smacks of the swords still hurt yet, with each training session the young man noticed the blows becoming less painful, less harmful to him. He was able to stand longer against the attacks of his assailants. This confused him.

He was a relatively handsome young man with the appearance of a 13-year-old boy, despite being closer to 20 years old. He was never fed well, so he was very thin. His body however thin was toned in his muscles from all his work and beatings. His hair was black and unkempt flowing wildly all over reflecting his status in the household. The sons of Dominus loved to break him; he was their favorite toy.

"Father, he isn't going down. Make him go down!" the youngest son said to Dominus.

"Just hit him harder." Dominus replied. The reply of his father angered the boys further. The older son had had enough. He swung with might toward face of the one they called Turd, smacking him straight in the jaw. The blow knocked the young man to the ground, he covered his mouth in pain as he prayed for mercy. "Stop it! Stop it, you stupid child!" Dominus yelled to his boys as he took away their wooden swords. "You know the rules of training, no face shots, you stupid child!"

"But Father, he wouldn't go down." The younger son replied.

"I don't care! You never hit in the face during practice." Dominus hovering over the boy writhing in pain on the ground with his left boot rolled him over. "Good, it won't left a scar." He walked away from the room, showing no further empathy. Dominus to the slaves told the boys never to hit the face, because it is classless to disfigure the face of his slave. This was the reason that the slaves heard, however the real reason for no face shots in any punish for his slaves is that it lowers their value. A slave with an unscathed face could be traded for more purposes than just labor, which gave them greater worth. This was the only reason Dominus cared about the face of his slaves. Without the monetary advantage of a smooth face of a slave, he could care less. They were his dogs, nothing more.

The sons spat on the boy still pained and on the ground. "Turd! Stay down." The call of Domina rang through the chamber, dinner for the family was about to be served. The boys' attention shifted to the smell floating through the air. They no longer cared about punishing their plaything and ran off toward the dining room to feast after a beating well given. The two other slaves standing near meant to hold the boy in place now moved toward him. "Quick get his head!" One said to the other. "Let's move him to our room quick." The two grabbed boy who was paralyzed by the pain in his jaw still throbbing. The two slaves moved him to their quarters. These two like the other three slaves in the household had no formal name. However, each slave enjoyed the others and they still could communicate even without a name. They were friends and these two hated how Dominus' sons treated this young man. Once in the shack of room the older looking of the two gave the lad some water while the other made him comfortable. "I'm tired of this. They treat us lower than dogs." Tears were welling up in his eyes. "Last week those two brats kicked me in my groin three times a piece because their mother made them eat rice. We cannot stand for this!"

"But what can we do?" the older one said to the younger. "This is our life."

"We escape. We kill them and escape." The older man leaned back in disbelief. "Hear me out. Here at the house there are only two armed guards at the door to the house and the four members of Dominus' family. There are six of us slaves. We could do this, we could escape." The older one was confused, it had been years since he had been outside the walls of the house, he was nervous about this. "Friend, this town has few soldiers outside the house, I've heard Dominus complain about the lack of soldiers often. In addition, he has rarely ever brought other soldiers inside the home. So if we killed them and escaped, who could recognize us as runaways? No one that's who!" The older looked on to the young boy as if to lay his choice on the hands of the younger ones. Still holding his cheek the boy, wondered if it would work if they could really do it. Could they be free? Could the pain stop? Fear ran over his body, the younger slave now looked upon him also, hoping he would agree.

"Let me think about it." The young man said to the two. Disappointed at the hesitation by his beaten comrade, the younger slave ceased to press issue as they awaited their evening tasks.

As the meal ended, Domina rang the hand bell for the slaves to come clear the table and clean the dining hall. The young man, now with a swollen cheek was tasked with scrubbing the table while all five others were to clean the table and wash the dishes. The family went and reclined near the hearth one room over while Domina left to go meet with other wives of some social standing for evening drinks. Dominus pulled from the shelves a bottle of free whiskey, much to the delight of his sons. "Drink up boys, but don't tell Mother!" Their cheers drowned out the sound of the labor in the house, all the slaves could hear was the reckless spouting of the drinking men. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Father why do you have us beat Turd, more than the other slaves?" The drunken question rang throughout the house, perking the interest of all the servants. "Father why him?"

Dominus had always evaded the question before this moment, yet he had been sober when it was asked of him. "Well I'll tell you boys a story about that Turd!" He howled with the aid of whiskey. "I once had a sister and a better seat in the court of Daein, before you were born. At the time I also had a sister who was very pretty….so pretty, men offered my father when he was alive mounds of money for her hand. Of course the idiot refused them all." Dominus gulped another deep swig from the bottle. "So one day my sister brought home a man to meet me a few years after our father died. Saying they were in love." At this point in the story all listening were confused. How did this relate to Turd?

"However he was a filthy laguz from Gallia." The boys grew angry, the slaves perked up even more, one of the slaves was from Gallia.

The world of Tellius had two major races, the beorc or humans, and the laguz, humans who had characteristics of animals and transformed into certain animals for combative reasons. Both races had a natural disgust for the other races nations. The Beorc hated the laguz because they saw them as feral creatures unworthy of civil life. In addition, the laguz hated the beorc for being pompous slavers of their kind. Most wars fought on Tellius were between the two races. When this was mentioned all understood, even the most uneducated of the slaves. The sister in the story had upset and disgusted Dominus.

"So.." The drunkard continued. "He keep harping about how he wished to marry her, my sister, how wanted her to be his sub-human trash bride." Rage filled his voice. "So I told him that if he fought in the military that I'd allow it. However….HAHAAH!" Dominus had broken out in laughter much to the surprise of everyone including his sons who were very interested in the story. "I arranged for him to be executed in the army camp. Filthy Trash!" Everyone tensed up and the slaves ceased working completely, keen to hear the end of this story. "I thought that end it, however, that stupid wench had laid with him and conceived a baby with that trash. That filthy trash had laid with my sister!" His fist punched the mantelpiece above the hearth. "I asked to kill that baby in the womb, but she refused. She bore the baby, but in the birth….she died from the child birth. That baby was half laguz half beorc, a branded with a brand on his back forever making him different and weird. That baby is Turd. That's why I love to see you beat that bastard son of a sub-human."

The sound filled the halls. The young boy dropped his cleaning tools; he clenched his fists in anger. Rage filled his soul. _Dominus is my uncle, and this whole time he has treated me as a dog, no worse. He killed my Father as well. _These thought flooded this mind. The young man stood up and went to the kitchen where the other slaves were standing; they too were shocked and disgusted by the actions of Dominus. The young man went straight to the younger slave who had helped him earlier. He looked across the room, and saw the laguz who was tired of being the "house pet", the two female slaves who feared for their physical safety nightly, the old man who in 50 years had never tasted freedom, and himself a branded, a person who could never fit in truly with either race. He reached out his right hand and placed it on the shoulder of the younger slave who helped him earlier. "I'm in." He glanced around the group sensing the mixture of fear, anger, and unease. "Let's kill them Now!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: So This is Murder

The six slaves, flooded with mixed emotions knew what the choice meant. They knew that to slay their master would endanger their lives. Could they really do it, and slay the one who had imprisoned them for all their know lives. The group really only had one person with any kind of fighting experience, and that was the laguz. He was a cat laguz and Dominus occasionally had used him to pit fight against other slavers. If they were going to escape it was all going to rely on the laguz. Sure, the slaves would have no problem killing the three drunks near the hearth, but the real challenge would be the two armed soldiers at the door. The beorc slaves had relatively no fighting experience aside from the punches received from Dominus, so the soldiers at the door must be killed by the laguz only he had the required power to possibly kill them. The six worked up the best possible strategy for the situation. All six despite being nervous, scared, and knowing the consequences of failure were in agreement with the proposed idea.

Quickly the three-beorc male slaves and one of the female slaves grabbed any kind of sharp knife they could find in the kitchen. The smaller of the female slave was asked to simply keep out of the fighting and gather up some herbs and cloaks to help make their escape as smooth as possible. She happily accepted, she was only 12 and had yet to be violated by Dominus or his sons, she knew of the mistreatment and feared it one day, but she was afraid that murder was not in her blood. That if it came to her actually killing someone that she could not do it, and so for the safety of everyone she happily obliged to her role.

The other four beorc moved slowly and quietly toward the hearth, where the three men of the home still gallivanted and drunk to their heart's content. Dominus had no clue about what would happen next, and the slaves liked it that way. As they approached the hearth only one thing made them nervous, and it hung above the fireplace right next to Dominus himself who was still enthralling his lightweight sons with false tales of his personal prowess in battle. Hearing these tales brought even more rage into the hearts of the three younger beorc moving to attack, yet the one major threat to their safety remained. A loaded crossbow hung above the fireplace, it was kept as a trophy by Dominus, by was always loaded. As the beorc crawled into the hearth, each laid eyes upon the crossbow and its sharp bolt. It was a risk, and one worth taking.

The beorc were all in position now behind the chair of the sons ready to make their move. The laguz slave took a bucket of soap water and moved toward the door to not raise suspicion from the soldiers present. He positioned himself in the center of the room, with his ears keenly set to focus on the sounds of his beorc comrades making their move. "Look at the sub-human trash." One guard said to the other. "He knows his place before us…on HIS KNEES!" The laguz hung his head hiding the clenching teeth and rage that built in his eyes. He was getting impatient, he knew he could take these inept weaklings and was hungry for the signal.

Back in the hearth all that remained was the act of betrayal itself. Up to this point everything could be called off, the six slaves could stop and go back to their roles in the house without anyone being the wiser. Nothing had to change. However, one more moment, one more movement and change would be initiated. From the next movement on there was not turning back. They would be free or die.

The younger beorc male, the one who first concocted the plan, with one motion set everything into play. He leapt up from behind the chair of the eldest son almost to the surprise of everyone including his fellow slaves and plunged his knife into the younger son's skull. The sound of the skull cracking and breaking with the thrust sounded the alarm all over. The older son saw everything and screamed for his father. The young branded slave quickly silenced the noise from the boy. He emerged from behind his chair and plunged his knife into the neck of the older son. "Wuff. Wuff." He whispered into the son's ear as the boy quickly bled out.

Dominus seeing his son's lives end reached for the crossbow above the fireplace. He grabbed it immediately despite being completely inebriated. The female slave now made her move, racing toward Dominus directly. This was beyond personal for her. She was a relatively fair girl, at the prime of her physical beauty. She knew this because of the attention and abuse she received from Dominus often. His needle had poked her countless times, so she now desired to return the favor. Closing in she jumped toward her beast of a master, knife ready, she expected to unleash Yune's wrath upon him. "Shunk!" The three male slaves looked up hoping to see that gotten their master down. "Thud!" Their eyes welled with tears. Their comrade, who desired to finally poke him back, had just received her final poke, one to the head. Now laying on the ground of the hearth, lifeless, was their friend. She never would know love and jewelry as a woman should feel. All she received was a bolt, a bolt to the face. Dominus' dangerous crossbow proved to be the better weapon against her wrath. She was dead before her body hit the floor.

"Stupid Wench!" Dominus yelled as he chunked his whiskey bottle at the old slave knocking him to ground. "I'll KILL YOU ALL!" Dominus looked around as the one he called Turd and the younger male slave moved toward him with their knives drawn. The older slave rose to his feet and took the first stab at Dominus. Their master looked across the room but couldn't find another bolt for his bow, he fell to the ground defenseless as he called to the guard soldiers while the three beorc slaves proceeded to give him the melee of blades so great any onlooker would have thought them ice sculptors due to their rapid thrusting into their master. "STOP! STOP! STOP!" Dominus cried as his eyes began to close and his body became more and more fileted by the barrage of kitchen knives. As the younger girl slave entered the room she was taken a back at the immense rage the men displayed as they refused to cease hack at the body once life left him, rather they proceeded to be sure that Dominus' corpse resembled his soul, heartless and ugly. She dropped the cloaks and supplies as she called out to her comrades to stop it, that he was already dead. Slowly the other listened and arose from the corpse. However, one slave, the younger male beorc who sowed the seeds of rebellion arose, unveiled his penis and began urinating upon the corpse.

"Yune consume you!" He called to the corpse as he sprayed his urine up and down the ripped apart body, he was sure to not miss a single spot.

"You didn't have to do that." The older slave said to the younger. "He's already dead."

"Yeah, but when will I get this opportunity again." The group of four beorc moved to the center room where the laguz and soldiers were fighting.

As the initial blows struck in the hearth and the cries of older brother bellowed the soldiers were alerted to what was happening. The proceeded to move toward the hearth and rescue their employer, yet their path was blocked. The laguz scrubbing the floor rose to his feet. He was perfectly positioned between the soldiers and the way to the hearth. "Move subhuman trash! Get out of our way!" One of the soldiers said to the laguz.

"I think not. Its time I show you how feral we "sub-humans" truly are." The laguz shifted into his cat form. While the cat laguz were essentially the weakest of combative laguz species, they could still pack a serious punch, especially against poorly trained soldiers. He growled at the soldiers as if to challenge them to stop quaking in their boots, lower their lances, and charge. The first soldier gulped and bit the bullet, charging in to spear the cat. However, the laguz was too fast for him and the cat countered his attack, biting the soldier's neck sinking his teeth deep, crushing the bones and splitting the arteries of the soldier. He was dead before he hit the ground. The second soldier seeing his friend get bit, quickly thrust his lance into the cat's side. The wound was felt and painful to the laguz, however it was poorly aimed and failed to pierce deep enough into the cat's body. The cat leaned in, removing his jaw from the neck of his previous opponent to swipe with his claws at the other. The swipe dug into the soldier's left arm, rending a notable portion of flesh. However, with the adrenaline running rampant in the soldier the swipe didn't register pain. Again, he thrust his lance toward the now mobile cat. His thrust hit the ground behind the laguz as he dodged to the side and sped forward to swipe at his throat. The cat with his attack slit the jugular of his opponent, yet the adrenaline kept his enemy from realizing his own defeat. The laguz moved back, assured that his enemy was already dead. Behind him, the soldier moved step by difficult step toward the cat, he had yet to sense his own demise at the hands of a sub-human. The cat shifted out of his beast form. He knew there ceased to be a need to fight the soldier as he would fall dead soon enough for with step more of his blood pooled on the ground below, his life was fading fast. Step. Step. Step. "Thud." The soldier crashed to the ground, no longer able to move the majority of his body he struggled to mouth two final words.

"Sub-human…." These were his last remarks. At this moment the beorc slaves reached the laguz near the door. All five of them somewhat tired and shocked at their success now looked upon their final test opening the door to the house. They had dreamed of this but now it seemed almost too good to be true. The laguz who was still injured was given the lead to open the door, seeing how he was the one who had the most dangerous task for their escape to work. The group step by step inched towards freedom, freedom was theirs.

"Whoosh!" the door to the house flung open as Domina stood in the doorway, happy from her night on the town. Her smile faded quickly as she saw her slaves congregating around the door, she glanced past them to see the bodies of the guards lying on the floor. "How dare you filthy slaves!" he quickly sobered up and pulled a small book from her cloak. Turning the pages quickly she found what she was looking for her only mastered tome. "Fire!" A bright ball filled the room, the slaves had never seen magic before. The brightness of the ball blinded them and forced them a few steps backward. Domina released the blast toward the party knocking all off their feet.

"Aahhh!" all felt the power of the burn, the sear of the flames upon their flesh. Some felt than burn more than others did. The group arose to their feet. Shock was upon them as their laguz companion had succumbed to the flames. The laguz of the beast races are incredibly vulnerable to fire. This laguz having never experienced this had no idea of the danger the flame was to his already damaged body. His death was painful yet quick. The one called Turd knew if she cast the spell again that they might not survive. He looked back to the corpse of the soldier, seeing the lance still there. He reached for the lance placing all of his freedom into this one weapon, it made him nervous. The other two male beorc charged at Domina hoping to kill her or die trying.

"Fire." Domina once again unleashed a blast at the group; it hit the older male directly in his left arm, severely burning it to the bone. The searing flesh of his arm incapacitated him to the ground. He now rolled on the ground as his flesh rotted off the bones all the flesh of his left forearm was falling off brunt to a crisp.

He younger male however was unaffected. He punched her square in the jaw knocking Domina to the ground. She dropped her book of tomes. Realizes this Domina scrabbled to the book, which the young male kicked across the room. The one called Turd now lunged toward the grounded woman and thrust his lance through her back all the way through her body. "That's for my parents, whore!" Domina had a confused look on her face as she started to bleed out.

"Your parents? What do you know about your parents?" The young man explained what Dominus had told her sons that night around the hearth. "Fool!" Domina coughed up blood. "…He was your father…He slept with a…subhuman." The young man was shocked but he could tell she wasn't lying. Her words were honest. "…When the word got out that he backed trash…the king stripped him of most of his nobility…..That's why we hate you….Turd." With one final push, she mustered the power to spit blood at the young man. The blood hit his cheek; he welcomed it upon him as almost a sign of victory. Domina now lay dead with the lance still stuck in her back. The door was open and all they had to do was walk through the threshold and vanish into the night.

The female slave helped the older man to his feet she made a tourniquet for his arm so as to stop any more blood loss. She allowed him to lean on her as they exited the door wearing the cloaks she had gotten for them. The two young males remaining in the house put on their cloaks but before they left the both grabbed the lances belonging to the dead soldiers. The branded one simply pulled his lance from the back of Domina, while the other one grabbed his off the other soldier. "Better to have some kind of protection." The young male said to the branded. The branded one nodded. Who knows what they would find outside the town. The two headed off into the night, joining up with their other two comrades. As they reached the edge of the town all stopped and looked back one last time. One last look at their despicable prison, where they will never return. Their lives and bodies belonged to them now.

On the road the young branded man couldn't help but remembering how it felt to take life, to plunge a weapon into a person and remove them from this world. How it felt to bathe in the blood of enemies. _So this is Murder? I think I like it. _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Identity

The steps on the road made immense noise in the night. Four slaves trotted along slowly, fearful and confused, wounded and disoriented. Lost they were amongst the roads. Freedom was now theirs to hold, yet the purpose and meaning of freedom was unclear. How were they to survive. They had never hunted or fished; only one of them really had any cooking experience. They had no funds to purchase food and one of their comrades, the older man in his 50's now only had use of one of his arms.

The party stopped for a quick rest. They had been on the road for four hours and the sun was soon to rise, resting now could guarantee safety more than if they just stopped in the dark. The young female slave helped the older man sit down. She was full of compassion for this man as well as for her friends both living and dead. Her young heart attempted to block the pain of the two of her friends dying simply for her freedom to be had. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she tried t hide her eyes while grabbing the older man's melted arm to change the bandages and clean the wound. The older man sensed her sorrow. He wished to comfort this young girl. Long had he thought of her as a daughter of sorts. With his good arm he whipped her tears away and embraced her, "Thank you." Her whispered in her ear. "Without your help young one, I couldn't have made it this far." The safety of his embrace caused her to completely lose control of her fragile emotional state. Audible tears penetrated the darkness of the last piece of the night sky. The two young men, the branded and the beorc stood watch with their spears ready to go to work if called into action. The branded hearing his friend's crying felt sadness and pain run over his heart as well. The laguz had the hardest chore in their escape and the woman had the unfortunate luck of the crossbow actually firing a true bolt toward her. The branded wished they could be their with them, yet he knew they were gone from this world, never to return.

"May Ashera Guide you two." He prayed for their souls, that peace and bliss would become a mark of them now as they were absent the chaos of Dominus. He had never buried someone before, but had heard that it should be done for the dead. His heart ached that in their haste to escape they simply left the two bodies of their friends lying as they were on the ground.

Her tears stopped. The sobbing ended as she pulled herself from the chest of the older man. She could feel the pool of the tears soaked into his cloak. She was embarrassed, quickly whipping her eyes clean from the salty drops of remorse and fear she proceeded to change the wrappings of the old man's wounded arm. "I'm sorry for crying." She said as she tended to the wound cleaning it with a few herbs she had brought with her.

"Don't apologize little one." Tonight was a hard one for us all. The girl finished cleaning the wound and wrapping up the fleshless arm. She then made a sling for her friend, which he then concealed under his cloak. He was afraid that if they came across a group of thugs that him looking severely wounded would jeopardize their safety.

A ray crossed the horizon. Light had returned to Daein. The sun had arisen, drawing the gaze of all four travelers. For the first time they could see the fields and hills, mountains and towns, for the first time they enjoyed watching a sunrise. Looking upon the morning they all felt the warmth of the sun, it was as if the earth itself was congratulating them on their success and comforting toward their future. This renewed the hope and joy of the four, even the old man who had lost use of his left arm was smiling. How could he not the party could seem the grass, taste the morning dew, experience the embrace of the sun and hear the birds. The vast number of birds awakening to their morning chirping. The songs of the animals lifted their spirits further. It had taken four long hours but the party truly realized that they were free. From this point on their path was one of their choosing and liberty; an ambience filled their souls, and serenity tingled and caressed their skins. Goosebumps rolled across their whole body. The ecstasy of liberty, this was an amazing feeling for them to behold.

Seeing their surroundings the group saw they were positioned atop a rolling hill into a valley leading to a town near a river, the town was small but seemed friendly enough, place they could dwell and plan for the coming future. All shared glances of joy. The young girl leapt up and grabbing the hands of the young beorc standing watch she proceeded to dance with him despite his confusion mixed with happiness. The old man and the branded boy let out a solid laugh as they couldn't help but enjoy the pleasure of the moment watching their friend trying to get her to stop dancing with him. The weight of last night's actions seemed a distant memory, a forgotten action, perhaps even a dream. The old man rose to his feet, he walked over to the branded who was peering off into the distant land. Both were at a loss of how vast the world really was. As far as they could see in every direction, there was an expanse of land. While they knew the land beyond the house's walls must have been large, nothing could prepare them for the shock of how truly grand the world in which they dwelled was. The young beorc finally got the girl to stop dancing by alerting her to the vast expanse that the other two where staring into. They quickly raced and joined them at the edge of the hilltop. The young man reached them first and stood with pride at how grand the world really was, and how proud he was of his plot's success.

The young girl giddily ran up to jump on the back of the branded boy hoping to get better view of the land. However, the ground was slick from the dew of the morning. She slipped falling into the others knocking everyone off balance as they all began to roll down the hill to the bottom. "Ahh! Hahah!" the girl playfully screamed as she rolled down the hill with her male friends. The men were just as surprised as she was but refused to scream. The rolling was making the old man dizzy and the younger beorc sick, yet the branded boy seemed to rather enjoy it. The feeling was new to him and though it hurt his bruised body, it was still wonderful to feel a new experience not at the beckoning of a master.

As they came to a stop at the bottom of the hill all came to rest. The three males looked at their female friend and couldn't help but laugh at how clumsy they all were. The young male beorc attempted to stand up but immediately fell over from how dizzy he was. After a few minutes, they all rose to their feet. Happy and lucky that the spears stayed at the top of the hill rather than coming down with them. The group marched back up to the top of the hill to retrieve their only means of self-defense. Once at the top the branded asked, "so where should we head?"

Confusion fell upon the party. They hadn't really thought of that. All were puzzled with this conundrum. One by one they all looked toward the young beorc male who had planted the seed of rebellion the night before. He was thinking about the situation as well, unsure as to what they should do. He had yet to notice the ever-growing intensity of the gaze of his friends as they hoped that answers and a plan would follow suit. The young man looked down. "WHAT? What are you looking at?" he was surprised and shocked by the intense gaze the others were giving him.

"Well…" said the branded. "I think we all figured you had some kind of plan…sense…you know…you gave us the idea to rebel." The young man began scratching his head; he did not think that he was supposed to be the designated thinker for the group. After all, he had no more experience in the world than they did. His knowledge of life outside of Dominus' household was not superior to theirs, so he felt awkward being the delegated to make the tough choices about their future. Hoping to gain some privacy and escape the stinging glances of his companions he turned back toward the valley hoping to uncover a solid idea, one that would not further endanger his allies, for he cherished them and saw them as family as they saw him in return.

As he looked into the valley, an epiphany struck him. Pointing at the small town deep in the valley he spoke boldly. "Friends! That is where we are going, to that town. There we'll start a new live!" The group cheered and were delighted with the idea. They now had direction and a plan, a mission. The valley also did not seem too far a walk, maybe half a day if they didn't stop to rest. This was good for them because they were lacking any solid supplies that could sustain them for elongated travel. To them their tired eyes the town was a refuge and place of growing hope for their future, because no matter what lay ahead, it was better than before.

The party arose, the old man stretched a little, and then adjusted his sling, and they trotted down the hill toward the town. With each step, excitement filled their hearts and livened their spirits. They were going to a have a new life. No longer would they be slaves, but men and women. People who were addressed and not ignored as they would a barrel.

An hour on the road past when the younger beorc realized something. "Guys! STOP!" confusion arose in the group they halted immediately as they ceased their movements.

"What?" the branded and the girls both replied.

"When we reach the town, how are we going to introduce ourselves?" the young man responded. The group actually hadn't thought of that. Never had they ever introduced themselves to people. They barely knew how to act with each other. They realized that they were poor, with no experience speaking with free people. Even more importantly however, they lacked one major thing. "Uhh…By the way." The young one continued. "We don't have names." The others understood exactly what he meant, any person who ever entered Dominus' house had a name, everyone except for them. They were called things but they knew the difference between a curse and a name.

"That's right!" the old man piped up. "We'll need names. I remember someone in Dominus' house saying one that… "a name is a person's….ide-identity."

"What's an iden-tity?" the young girl asked.

The branded knew. Once the sons of Dominus explained it to him. He was cleaning the chicken coop one morning when the sons shoved his face into a cow patty. "Turd. That's what you are, that's your identity. That's who you are." They told him in disgust as they created for him their labelled curse toward him.

"Your identity…I believe is how others see you. How they recognize you…I think?" the branded gave this answer to the others to which they now understood the need to provide a name for themselves. The group agreed to proceed no further until they could think up a name for themselves, and practice introducing themselves based on what they remembered from how Dominus and others hey saw acted toward others.

After a couple minutes, the old man piped up. "I..I would like to be called, Pan." The girl chuckled a little bit, but she liked in nonetheless. She thought it fit him. The others strangely agreed.

The younger beorc male was next to decide. "I heard this name once from someone, and it sounded special. My name will be Gaius." He was proud of is memory to recall a name that seemed to possess leadership.

The girl had and the branded had been pondering for a while still when she leapt up with her decision. "How about Zell?" Pan went over to her, and while rubbing her head and kissing her forehead proclaimed that it was a wonderful name.

"It captures your beauty well, little Zell." The old man said to her. Zell's eyes were watery from the affirmation this father-like figure had just given her. She now had a name and was happy for it. All that remained was a name for the branded.

In his head raged a war, as the memories of pain and torment kept coming up in his mind's eye. Time after time of him hearing the pronounced identity "Turd" over him while being mistreated. That name, that curse, that identity. He wanted to fully free himself from it. He desired have those memories flushed from his head. If he was to choose a name, he would choose one absent any of the sounds present in the word "turd." Being that he couldn't read or spell this was a long task and he toiled trying to remember every word that he knew. He couldn't use anything that sounded stupid or worthless such as "soap," also he refused to choose anything that sounded at all like "Turd." Nothing was coming to mind.

The others had now been practicing their introduction skills for a while when finally a memory hit him. A small memory of one time when someone who wasn't a slave was actually nice to him. He was young and a woman came to visit Domina. She was kind and sweet, her appearance wasn't nothing above normal. She wouldn't stick out in a crowd, yet she was beautiful because her pure heart showed and made her average appearance shine like an angel. The branded when younger saw her when she visited and he accidently spilled a drink on her when he tripped on a crack in the floor whilst serving her in the courtyard. Instead of hitting him or cursing him, she immediately came over and tended the scrape on his knee, asking him if he was okay. Shocked by her kindness, he thought she was Ashera. He went about that day doing her duties and heard her name when she was leaving. Today as he was to choose his name he desperately tried to remember how it sounded. _Al…Alicia? No. Ally? No that's not it. Alex? Yes, that was it! Alex._ The branded checked the name against his former curse being sure the name was not similar in any way to his former torment. It was different altogether, bearing no similarity to his old cursing in any form. The boy happily leapt to his feet, gaining the attention of the other three. "I will be Alex!" The others smiled. The named sounded truly beautiful, and seemed to be a good fit. All of them now had an identity, a name that was their own to use. They all had something to be called rather than cursed randomly. They truly for the first time in their lives felt Iike people, like individual people, of actual worth.

The group spent a few more minutes practicing their introduction skills, giving their name, and shaking hands to the best of their knowledge before they headed down the road. With each time they introduced themselves, saying their name, pride arose in their hearts. They mattered. They were no longer a group of slaves; they were Pan, Gaius, Zell, and Alex. With confidence and joy, they could now approach this town down valley.


End file.
